The Falcon and the Raven 2
by Kamayeth
Summary: So, here's the sequel I wasn't really intending to write. Some of the readers of part 1 sweet-talked me, though, so you can thank and/or blame them. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

From within a tower that seemed like it should've fallen into ruin ages ago, two voices droned in unison. Amongst the syllables of the ancient language, one word was jarring in its familiarity: Camelot.

Two hands hovered over a clear stone set on a pedestal while two hands were joined, linking the pair as their eyes glowed amber. With the final word, the stone flashed so brightly that the two had to shield their eyes until it faded once more.

"It is done." The woman smiled at her accomplice. "Well done, Mordred."

He kissed her hand. "Thank you, Lady Morgana."

From the shadows, there was an ominous rustle of feathers.

O~O~O~O~O

Leagues to the south, Branwen sat on the floor of the hidden room within Geoffrey's library, contemplating the box she'd discovered weeks ago.

She'd been helping Merlin clean and organize the space when she'd come across it, tucked away on a high shelf. It was a perfect cube, about a foot across on each side, and a smooth, seamless black.

She'd showed it to Merlin and he'd offered to toss it out for her. She'd declined, clutching it to her, knowing beyond doubt that there was something significant about it and wondering that Merlin didn't seem to see it. She'd kept the box near her, only to have him make the same offer several times over the course of the afternoon. It was almost as if he didn't remember the box from one moment to the next, and it made Branwen deeply suspicious.

She'd put it back where she found it, mostly to keep her husband from trying to take it, but she'd been sneaking back almost every day to examine it, the mystery of it a relentless call.

There was a way to open it, she was sure, but it had so far resisted every spell she'd crafted for it. Whoever had sealed it had been very, _very_ good and her magic itched to counter it.

At the moment, though, she sat and simply stared at it in frustration. Inspiration had hit in the small hours of the morning and she'd been sure she'd figured it out, only to have the new spell fail like all the others.

She held the box up and scowled at it. "Why won't you open?"

Her brows rose in surprise as something touched her magic. Runes glowed faintly in blue over the surface of the box, then faded again.

She tilted her head. That was new. "So, what?" she asked it. "You want me to have a conversation with you?"

The box didn't answer.

She shook her head at it. "I must be hard up for company if I'm talking to a box." But all of her increasingly complex spells had failed and she wondered if the solution could really be so simple. She squared her shoulders and pronounced in her most authoritative voice, "I say to you, open!"

The runes flared again, but still only faintly. It was still more progress than she'd had since she started, though.

She shook her head, brows furrowing. She chewed her lip, thinking. "Please open?"

The runes flashed and she dropped the box, scuttling back to put some distance between her and it. She watched in fascination as the box folded itself into nothing, leaving behind what looked like a ball of fuzz. It wasn't until it uncurled itself and turned to fix her with an emerald stare that she realized what it was.

A kitten.

She tilted her head, blinking in confusion. She studied the creature, noting the burgundy stone that winked at her from around its neck. It _seemed_ harmless enough, but she knew enough to be cautious. She watched as it closed its eyes and inclined its head.

' _Mistress.'_

Branwen started at the voice in her head. It was male – deep and melodious and utterly at odds with the tiny ball of fur before her. "What?" she choked.

The creature ignored her question and stood, scenting the air. His hackled rose and his ears flattened against his head. _'Mistress, there's no time. You must take this jewel and put it on.'_

Branwen shook her head. "No. I'm not putting _anything_ on until I understand what-" she stopped as a connection she didn't even know she had was severed.

"Merlin," she breathed.

She was scrambling to her feet when pain crashed over her, followed by darkness.

O~O~O~O~O

Outside, the day was progressing much like any other in Camelot. Arthur and his knights were practicing on the training field, with Merlin and his cadre of battle mages assisting.

Merlin was working with a younger knight, helping hone his dagger skills. The young man was attacking while Merlin dodged and weaved, a magic shield lighting up when a blow found its mark while keeping the warlock from harm.

Suddenly, white-hot pain flashed through Merlin's head, then a line of fire burned across his ribcage. Vaguely, he heard the knight's triumphant cry of, "I got you!" followed by a horrified, "Oh, gods! I got you!" He felt himself falling as the knight shouted for Arthur.

 _A/N: Because there's nothing like starting things off with a cliffhanger, amiright? Now, if you'll excuse me, I feel the need to go and laugh in an evil sort of manner._


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur knelt over Merlin, assessing the damage the knight had inflicted. The cut on his chest was long, clean, and bleeding freely, the white of bone showing through.

"Merlin?" Arthur patted his face, shook his shoulder, but got no response. He turned to the knight. "Get Gaius." The man nodded and sprinted away.

Arthur, focused entirely on his sorcerer, failed to notice Leon's approach until a quiet, "Sire?" drew his attention. Leon gestured at the training field. "Merlin's not the only one affected." The king surveyed the scene, his mouth falling open. Every single mage was on the ground.

"What the hell?"

He turned at the sound of feet pounding up behind him and glanced up, frowning as the knight shook his head. "All the healers I could find are unconscious, including Gaius."

This wasn't good. He thought a moment, considering his options. He needed to figure out what was going on and he needed to get his men help.

He addressed the knight again. "Go back and tell Guinevere that we need an infirmary set up, with as many beds as possible. Then take as many people as you can find and go to the lower town. If there are any healers still standing, bring them here."

"Yes, sire," and he was gone again.

Arthur turned to Leon. "We need to get them all inside."

"Immediately, Sire." He sketched a bow before striding away.

Carefully, Arthur gathered up Merlin's limp form and carried him toward the castle. Once inside, he followed the sounds of activity to the great hall and commandeered the first cot he saw, getting Merlin settled as well as he could.

Gaius was brought in not long after and placed on a neighboring bed. Then began a steady stream of victims, filling the cots faster than the king thought possible. When all of the beds were taken, blankets were placed on the floor to accommodate more.

Thankfully a few unaffected healers were located and Arthur brought one to Merlin. While the man worked to stitch him up, the king surveyed the room. "Do you know why this is happening?"

The question caught the attention of several knights nearby, and they crowded close to hear.

"No, my lord. But since only those with magic are affected, I assume it's some sort of spell."

Arthur considered the cots and blankets that filled the room. " _All_ of these people have magic?"

"As near as I can tell, Sire."

Arthur shook his head. "I had no idea there were so many."

He felt a touch on his arm and turned to meet Gwaine's worried eyes. "I don't see Branwen. I've asked around and no one remembers seeing her today."

Arthur's gaze flickered back to Merlin before returning to Gwaine and the other knights. He addressed them all.

"Find her."

O~O~O~O~O

Branwen's first muddled thought was that her magic _ached_. The second was that that couldn't be right, since, in her experience, magic simply didn't work that way. The third thought was that the second thought was irrelevant, because the first thought was still true. Then she noticed the warm, rumbling weight tucked under her chin.

She reached up and her fingers found softness.

' _Mistress?'_

Oh. Right.

Branwen knew she should be panicking, should be demanding that this creature tell her _everything_ , but she couldn't seem to find the energy. She settled for, _'What's happening?'_ and, ' _Why can't I feel Merlin?'_

' _There's been an attack. Emrys has been affected as you were.'_

' _But I woke up. Why hasn't he?'_

' _The jewel. It provides some protection to the one it touches.'_

Branwen realized that the cat was staying perfectly still, stretched out against her throat, trapping the jewel between them, against her skin _. 'But you're a magical creature. Won't you be affected by the spell if I remove the jewel?'_

' _The spell is meant for humans specifically. I will be fine, I assure you, Mistress.'_

She sighed and fumbled with the clasp, fastening it around her neck, unsurprised that the chain lengthened itself to fit.

The cat jumped down as she struggled to sit, head swimming. Realizing that she would need a moment to get to her feet, she studied her apparent… servant? Minion? _'You're not really a cat, are you?'_

' _No, Mistress. I am a parandrus.' At Branwen's confused look, he clarified, 'I can choose what form I take.'_

' _And you chose… a kitten.'_

' _I wanted something that you would find nonthreatening.'_

' _Well, you're certainly that.'_

' _Indeed.'_ There was a hint of sourness in his voice as he turned in a circle to see the rest of himself. _'Mobility is fairly limited, though.'_

Branwen's mouth fell open as the creature's eyes swirled from green to gold and oversized black wings sprouted from his shoulders. He flexed the new appendages experimentally. _'That should do.'_

' _This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder.'_ She struggled to her feet. _'But I really need to get this thing to Merlin.'_

' _It won't help him.'_

She stopped. _'What?! Why?'_

' _The severity of the spell's effect on an individual is directly related to the level of power of that individual. The jewel isn't powerful enough to counteract the effect on Emrys.'_

She sighed, rubbing at the ache in her forehead. _'It doesn't matter. I have to get to him.'_

The parandrus launched himself onto her shoulder. _'Agreed.'_

Branwen tried to ignore the tiny claws digging into her skin and the way the floor seemed to gently roll under her feet as she set off.


	3. Chapter 3

The knights had separated in their search for Branwen, and Gwaine was rushing through the courtyard, scanning the space for any sign of her.

A yowl drew his attention and his heart dropped when he spotted her huddled against a wall, one hand rubbing her head and the other stroking a ball of fur on her shoulder.

"Branwen?!" He sprinted to her and crouched at her side. "Hey. Are you alright?"

She nodded, but nearly toppled when she tried to stand. He reached out to steady her. "Easy, Mouse."

"Thanks." She shared a look with the cat and Gwaine's eyebrows shot up when wings unfurled and it jumped, gliding gently to the ground. He turned back to her as she spoke again. "I'm okay. I just need a minute."

He took in her trembling and her ghost-white face. "We may not have that long." He scooped her up and strode off toward the infirmary.

Arthur looked up as Gwaine entered, his expression melting into relief at the sight of Branwen bundled in his arms. He stood. "How is she?"

Gwaine shook his head, clearly mystified. "Awake."

"What? How?"

Gwaine shrugged. "No idea. You can ask her, though, as soon as I've put her down. My arms are killing me."

"Some knight _you_ are," came a quiet voice from the vicinity of his chest. He laughed, sounding as relieved as Arthur felt at her teasing tone.

As they settled her on the edge of Merlin's bed, Arthur was startled by the parandrus as he flew past and landed next to her. As she stroked him absently, the king leaned toward Gwaine and hissed, "What in the five kingdoms is _that_?"

The knight just shook his head. "Oh, I've long since given up asking those kinds of questions when that pair is involved, Princess."

The king considered that a moment. "Fair enough." He went and crouched by Branwen, touching her knee to draw her attention. She looked better, as if simply being near Merlin was enough to steady her. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Camelot's under attack."

"Morgana?"

"That would be my assumption, based on the power of the spell."

He sighed. His sister certainly knew how to hit him where it hurt. "Why aren't you affected like everyone else?" He watched the cat crawl into her lap. "And what is that?"

She stroked the creature and smiled a little at the way he raised his hindquarters as she scratched at the base of his tail. "He says he's a parandrus and he gave me this." She touched the stone at her throat. "It wards off the spell somewhat." She watched Arthur struggle with a question he didn't know how to ask, and answered it for him. "I wanted to give it to Merlin, but it seems it's not powerful enough to help him."

"What can we do?"

Branwen looked down at the parandrus, who returned her gaze. They stayed like that for a moment, then she turned her attention back to the king. "We need to get him out of the city."

That's all Arthur needed to hear. He nodded, organizing his thoughts, then nodded again. He spun, calling the knights to him, giving orders to obtain a cart, and hay, and blankets. His voice faded as they made their way out the doors and down the hall. Branwen shook her head, wondering that her words could cause such an immediate and decisive response from her king. Of course, she thought, Arthur had always preferred action over more cerebral pursuits, especially when Merlin's well-being was on the line.

She looked over at the still form of her husband and sighed, her magic still searching for the lost connection. She felt lost, and lonely, and not a little anxious.

' _He will return to you soon, Mistress.'_

' _Thank you.'_ She stroked the soft fur, smiling a little at the noises he couldn't seem to keep himself from making.

' _So, do you have a name?'_ she asked.

' _Not as you might understand it. You may call me whatever you like.'_

She continued to pet him as she considered.

' _Trill,'_ she decided.

' _As you wish.'_

 _O~O~O~O~O_

Within the hour, Merlin, Branwen, and Trill were settled in a wagon and trundling out the main gates, escorted by Arthur and Gwaine. The other knights had grumbled at being left behind, but the king hadn't wanted to deplete Camelot's defenses while he was off figuring out what his sister was up to. He would've left Gwaine as well, had the man not told him in no uncertain terms that he would defy orders to follow them, if need be. So Arthur put him to work driving the wagon, while he rode alongside, desiring the maneuverability of his charger.

They paused at the crossroads just outside the city and Arthur peered through the slats of the cart.

"Which way are we headed?"

Branwen consulted with Trill.

"North."

"North it is," Gwaine replied from the driver's seat, and the wagon lurched a little before turning onto the road.

Branwen sighed. She had hoped that the spell only affected Camelot proper, and that they would be free of it when they left the city. Arthur, apparently thinking along the same lines, asked, "Any change?"

"Not yet."

She figured they should've known better. Morgana would surely have intended that no magical reinforcements would be able to get anywhere near Camelot.

Their pace was frustratingly slow, but an hour later, Branwen thought that maybe there was a lessening of the ache that had plagued her since the curse struck. She hoped it wasn't just wishful thinking.

Trill had flown off, citing a need for movement and fresh air. She supposed that being cooped up in a box, however magical, for who knew how many years would do that to an individual, so she let him go, though she found she missed the comfort of his presence.

She had just decided that perhaps a nap was in order when they stumbled upon what could only be an advance scouting party. Branwen's only warning that something was amiss was Arthur's hissed order of, "Stay put!" before launching his horse into the skirmish. The cart rocked as Gwaine also leapt into the fray, then the air was filled with the sound of clashing weapons, curses, and Gwaine's taunts.

She tried to see what was going on, but the fight was concentrated in front of the wagon, and she only caught glimpses of movement. A shadow at the rear of the cart had her whirling in alarm, eyes wide at the armed man grinning at her. From what she could hear of the skirmish, no one had realized he was there.

"Well, what do we have here?" His eyes flickered to Merlin before coming back to her. "The great Emrys and his pretty little wench."

She considered screaming, but dismissed the idea as a distraction that could easily get Arthur and Gwaine killed. "Stay back," she commanded, disappointed by the waver in her voice.

His sneering, "Or what?" was overridden by the mental cry of, _'Hold on, Mistress! I'm coming!'_

But the man was advancing and Branwen knew there was no time. She held out her hand and breathed an incantation.

Pain exploded within her, doubling her over and leaving her gasping. The man laughed as she crumpled. "Well, doesn't _that_ make my job easier." He tilted his head, apparently listening to the battle outside, then scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I was offered a reward to kill the two of you, but I suppose there's no harm in having a little fun first."

Panic washed over Branwen as memories flooded her mind, memories she thought she'd finally laid to rest. That man who'd held her captive, the things he'd done, the things he'd made her do. It all came rushing back and she choked out a terrified sob.

The man smirked, then glanced at Merlin. "Oh, look. He's worried about you."

Branwen followed his gaze. She could just make out Merlin's fluttering eyelids, his twitching fingers. Relief seeped through the pain with the knowledge that somehow, some part of him knew she was there, that she needed him.

But he couldn't help her. She tried to shift away from the man, but her limbs were heavy and trembling and didn't want to do as she wished. So she did her best to prepare, desperately hoping that Merlin wasn't fully aware of what was happening.

Suddenly, another shadow, enormous and snarling, appeared at the back of the wagon and launched itself at the man, powerful jaws locking around his arm and jerking him out. His scream of terror was cut off abruptly, only to be followed by other screams and shouts of confusion. Branwen closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sounds of battle, but grateful that they covered the sobs that continued to break out of her.

When the sounds both inside and out had quieted, Trill, returned to his more familiar form, was back at her side. Branwen noticed that the fur around his mouth was sticky, and she suspected it was with something she didn't want to examine too closely. Arthur and Gwaine followed barely a heartbeat later and Trill moved aside. He began washing his face and claws fastidiously as the men crowded in. Arthur immediately checked over Merlin, while Gwaine helped Branwen up, one arm wrapped around her as she trembled, and the other hand using a corner of his cloak to dab at her face. "What happened?"

She tried to answer, but only managed a wavery sort of sound through her chattering teeth.

Gwaine frowned deeply at the tears that welled again in her eyes and held her a little tighter. "Shh, Mouse. Don't push yourself. The story can wait." Then he addressed the king. "How's Merlin?"

Arthur's voice was hopeful. "I think he's trying to wake up."

They all watched the warlock carefully, but as his wife's pain and fear ebbed, so too did any movement from him.

"Damn it," Arthur swore quietly. He turned his attention to Branwen. "We'll rest here a while. I'd like to hear that story as soon as you're up to it."

She nodded. After a few minutes, she began, "That man came and threatened to…" she paused, debating how much to tell, "… kill us. So I tried to use my magic, but it was like something turned it back on me." Her voice grew quiet. "It hurt. I couldn't move. And then Trill came." She smiled a little as the parandrus pushed himself under her arm to crawl into her lap.

Gwaine rubbed Trill's head. "Yeah, we didn't recognize you at first. Sorry if I took a swipe at you, mate."

Trill's answer was to catch Gwaine's finger in his teeth, biting hard enough to dent, but not break, the skin, before licking the marks and butting his head into the knight's palm. Gwaine accepted the message and fondled the fuzzy ears.

Then Arthur spoke. "You saved them."

Trill turned to fix wide green eyes on the king.

"Thank you."

Trill closed his eyes and breathed out a purr, looking for all the world like he was smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you for all the favorites, follows, and reviews! So glad you're enjoying the story. And as much as I would love to respond to everyone personally, I have social anxiety issues and so I really, um… wouldn't, actually. I hope I'm not offending anyone, because I really appreciate all of you! :)_

They had been traveling away from Camelot for several hours when Branwen was awakened from an exhausted sleep by a strange _tugging_ sensation in her magic. She tried to ignore it, body and mind begging for more rest, but the feeling only grew.

She cracked one eye open, then the other. It took a moment to register what she was seeing but, when she did, she sat up so abruptly that Trill, asleep on her blanket, rolled off in a startled flail of limbs. He righted himself with a yawn that ended in an annoyed huff. Branwen gave his head and absentminded rub in apology before turning her attention fully to Merlin.

Her brow furrowed. She was sure she'd seen movement. Then, as she watched, his eyelids fluttered and she felt the tug on her magic again.

He was fighting the spell.

She placed her hand gently on his cheek. With the physical contact, his magic latched onto hers harder and she felt a pull that made her gasp.

The cart rolled to a stop and she heard Gwaine ask, "Did you hear that?"

"No!" she called. "Keep going! I think we're almost clear!"

The wagon lurched forward and Branwen pressed her forehead to Merlin's willing her magic into him, calling to him. There was another hard tug and she thought she heard his voice in her head.

' _Merlin? Can you hear me?'_

She waited, listening, noting absently that the cart was moving faster than before. Good.

The next tug, when it came, was hard enough that she bit her lip to keep from crying out. This time, though, the pulling sensation didn't stop. It felt like an enormous weight was dragging on her magic.

' _Branwen!'_

Her eyes flew open in surprise. She closed them again, the better to concentrate. _'Merlin! I'm here!'_

' _What's happening?'_ There was an edge of panic in his voice.

' _There was a spell, but I think you may be able to break free of it now.'_

' _A spell?'_ He went quiet for a moment. When his voice came to her again, it was calmer. _'I can feel it.'_ The pull increased and Branwen bit back a whimper, determined to be strong. Merlin needed her.

' _Whatever it is you're doing, don't stop!'_

' _I won't,'_ she assured him.

They both went quiet, concentrating on Merlin's struggle toward consciousness. The pulling sensation settled into a sort of rhythm, an ebb and flow, as if Merlin's magic was building up momentum to break free. Finally, after a tug so hard it made Branwen's head swim, she heard Merlin gasp, and cough, and then breathe out her name. She blinked blearily at him, returning his soft smile. Tears filled her eyes. "You're back."

He touched her face and his smile faded. "I… I had a dream. You were hurt." He tried to sit up and grunted in surprise, a hand lifting his shirt to reveal the bandages wrapped around him.

Branwen gently pressed him back down. "It wasn't a dream, but I'm okay. _You,_ on the other hand…"

Whatever response Merlin was formulating was preempted by Arthur's shout. "Merlin!" Then, "Gwaine! Merlin's awake!"

The knight reined in hard enough to overbalance Branwen and Merlin's hand shot out to steady her with an, "Oi! Driver!"

Gwaine laughed. "Sorry, mate!"

Then both king and knight were clambering into the wagon, Branwen moving aside to allow them room. Arthur crouched beside Merlin, searching his face, while Gwaine grinned ear to ear.

"How are you feeling?" The king's voice was anxious.

"Fine. You know," Merlin gestured to his bandages, "considering. What happened, anyway?"

"The knight you were training landed a hit just before you collapsed."

Merlin's eyebrows bunched together. "I think I remember that. How long have I been out?"

"Several hours."

" _Hours?"_ Merlin gave him an incredulous stare. "You panicked because I took a _nap?_ "

Branwen snorted and Arthur sent a half-hearted glare in her direction. "I didn't _panic_. And, to be fair, you had the whole 'bleeding' thing going on, too."

"Whatever you say, Sire." He ignored Arthur's scowl. "Branwen mentioned a spell. Was anyone else affected?"

"Everyone with magic."

"Gaius?"

Arthur nodded. "He was alive when we left, though."

Merlin looked relieved, but then his eyes snapped to Branwen. "But-"

She shrugged. "I had a little help."

And Merlin suddenly found his view blocked by a bundle of black fur. "Oh!" He reached out without thinking and stroked an ear. "And who's this?"

' _The Mistress has named me Trill.'_

Merlin's eyebrows shot up and he craned his neck to fix Branwen with a thoroughly confused look.

"Trill is a parandrus," she offered.

' _It is good to see you conscious, Master.'_

"Um, _our_ parandrus." She gave him a tiny smile. "Apparently."

"Right." Merlin sighed and decided, in light of everything else, the mystery of Trill could wait. "So, where are we going?"

Arthur was grim. "It seems we have my sister to thank for this mess, so we're going to find her."

"You know where she is?"

"Well, our friend here," he nodded at Trill, "Has advised us to head north."

Merlin stared at him. "And you, Arthur Pendragon, are putting your trust in a magical creature?"

The king shrugged. "If it weren't for him, we'd have had to bury the both of you about three leagues back."

"It's true," Gwaine confirmed. "It was amazing! He looks cute and cuddly now, but he was _enormous_ , with teeth and claws and he grabbed one of the scouts and-"

"Gwaine!" Arthur flicked a glance to Branwen, who had paled somewhat.

"Oh." The knight looked sheepish. "Right. Story for another time."

Merlin's eyes went to the kitten, then to his wife. _'I have a very long list of questions for you.'_

' _I thought you might.'_

"Well," Arthurs voice cut through the awkward silence, "we've got plenty of daylight left, so we should keep moving." He started to follow Gwaine out, but turned to Merlin at the last moment. "I'm glad you're alright."

The warlock smiled. "Me, too."

As the wagon lurched back into motion, Branwen, with some help from Trill, recounted the events of the day, answering Merlin's questions when she could and hazarding guesses when she couldn't. After she finished, Merlin was quiet for a long while, mulling things over while he stroked Trill. Finally he sighed and gave Branwen an apologetic look.

"I hate to ask, but I need to be in top form if we're going up against Morgana, so do you think you're up to fixing," he gestured again to the bandages, "this?"

He saw uncertainty flash briefly in her eyes before she smiled. "Only one way to find out."

She helped Merlin sit up and carefully unwrapped him, not wanting to waste her magic on something she could do by hand, and resettled him. She considered the wound for a moment, piecing a spell together in her mind, then positioned her hands over his chest, took a steadying breath, and began.

Merlin watched her brow furrow over the sunstruck honey of her eyes, but she didn't hesitate in her incantation, so he let her continue.

It was a singularly odd sensation to feel his skin knitting together and pushing the stitches out one by one. When all of the sutures lay in a neat line on his chest, Branwen drew back, rubbing a shaky hand over her eyes.

Merlin brushed the stitches away, sending Trill scrambling after them, and pulled his shirt back down. He held out his hand to Branwen. "Hey. Come here."

She took his hand and allowed him to arrange her against his side. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair before pressing a kiss there.

She hummed a vague response before she relaxed fully with a contented sigh. He combed his fingers through her hair until her breathing became deep and even.

Trill, his interest in the escaped sutures apparently exhausted, crawled onto his chest and curled into a tight ball. Merlin stroked him, enjoying the rumbling purr, and let his mind wander through the wealth of information he'd obtained, processing the pieces and seeing how they might all fit together. Eventually, though, his restlessness got the better of him and he carefully extricated himself, settling Trill next to Branwen and kissing his wife once more, softly, on the forehead. He then magicked himself into the seat next to Gwaine, startling him so badly he nearly fell off.

"Whoa! You need to warn a body before you do that! Unless, of course," he added pointedly, "you want a sword through your middle."

Merlin offered him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I'm, um, coming to sit next to you?"

"Yeah, thanks for that."

Merlin shrugged, "Just making sure your reflexes stay sharp."

"My reflexes are plenty sharp!"

"Well, obviously not, since I'm sitting here without a sword through my middle."

Gwaine's sputtering was interrupted by Arthur's quiet, "Merlin." When he had the warlock's attention, he asked, "Are you sure you're alright?" He was reassured when Merlin rolled his eyes.

" _Yes_ , Arthur. I've had a lovely nap, Branwen took care of my little scratch, and I'm good as new."

"Little scratch?! Merlin, I could –" he snapped his mouth shut at the twinkle in his friend's eyes. The teasing chased way Arthur's final doubts about Merlin's well-being. He smiled and shook his head. "Idiot."

"Yep!" The accompanying grin faded after a heartbeat. "So, what's our plan?"

"Right now, we need information."

Merlin nodded. "Figure out where Morgana is, what she's doing, how she's doing it, and find a way to stop her."

Arthur looked impressed. "You're not as dumb as you look."

"Not all of us are."

The king frowned, trying to decide if that was an insult or just an observation.

"That was an insult," Gwaine offered helpfully into the silence.

Any response was cut off by Branwen appearing abruptly beside Merlin, causing him to yelp and knock into Gwaine, for the second time nearly unseating the knight.

"See? Not so pleasant, is it?" Gwaine asked sourly. The he leaned around to address Branwen. "Thanks for that, by the way."

She smiled at him. "Anything for you, Gwaine."

His brows rose. "Anything?"

"Hey!" Merlin pushed the knight back. "Down, boy. And _you_ –" he turned to Branwen, only to have her interrupt him with a kiss that lingered almost to the point of inappropriateness. "Well," he huffed when she finally drew away. "Alright then."

Arthur chuckled, wondering if Gwen had taught her that trick or if it was something all women instinctively knew. Either way, it was nice to see someone _else_ on the receiving end for a change. And, judging from Gwaine's smirk, the knight's thoughts had traveled down a similar path.

Their attention was drawn to the beating of wings and they watched as Trill glided in a wide arc, coming to land on Merlin's lap. _'Now that you are well, Master, I strongly suggest that we pick up our pace.'_

Merlin looked at Arthur. "We need to move faster."

The king sighed. "I agree. It would be better if we could all ride, but we only have the two horses."

Merlin felt a soft paw on his arm and turned his attention back to Trill. _'I believe I have a solution.'_

 _A/N: It's a trick all women know. ;)_


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur, Merlin, Branwen, and Gwaine galloped along the road, narrowing the distance between themselves and Morgana as quickly as they could, the wagon hidden in a copse of trees far behind them.

Arthur frowned at Trill, keeping pace easily even with both Merlin and Branwen perched on him, riding bareback. The great black warhorse dwarfed his own charger, the pride of his stables, and made Gwaine's mount look positively miniscule. Unfair as he knew it to be, it irked him. Still, he supposed it was better than the enormous stag that was the first transformation. He'd rejected that option immediately, both for the lack of subtlety and because it made the horses nervous. At least this was a familiar, if oversized, shape.

Gwaine, oblivious to his king's annoyance, laughed. "Courage, strength, and magic ride again!" He winked at Branwen. "With an extra helping of magic for good measure!"

Branwen let loose her own laugh and Merlin turned his grin on Arthur. "I still can't believe you didn't figure that out."

"I had other things on my mind. _And_ I was slowly dying at the time, if you'll recall."

"Oh, I remember. Still, the hint wasn't terribly subtle."

"Shut up, Merlin."

They were making good time and Arthur wondered if one of the pair that comprised "magic" had enchanted their steeds, or if the horses were just feeling competitive. And while it was good to be moving with some speed, that also meant it was increasing their chances of encountering another band of Morgana's men.

They'd met no further resistance by the time they made camp, though, and Arthur was grateful. The night was quiet and, by the time they awakened at first light, nothing had disturbed Merlin's wards.

They headed out again, but by the time they stopped for a quick midday meal, they had still met no more of Morgana's men. It was making Arthur nervous. Surely she must have realized by now that something had happened to her scouts and would be sending someone to investigate.

Unless she already had.

The thought ratcheted the king's anxiety up another notch.

Merlin, with his uncanny ability to seemingly read Arthur's mind (he swore it wasn't magic, but Arthur remained unconvinced), sent Trill to scout ahead while they rested.

He returned scarcely an hour later, reporting that they should be very close to their destination by evening and assuring them that there were no enemies in the area.

Arthur noted that both Merlin and Branwen shot suspicious looks toward the parandrus, but Trill ignored them, cleaning his paws and face with single-minded concentration.

About midafternoon, a crumbling tower loomed in the distance. "Please tell me that's not where we're headed," Gwaine pleaded, eyeing it warily.

After a brief conference with Trill, Merlin sighed. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, maybe it'll fall on her before we get there."

Arthur studied the tower, his strategist's mind envisioning likely entry points. He'd rather not go through a midden again, as amusing as it had been to watch Merlin drag himself through the refuse, but maybe a water supply would allow them in. Or, if any part of the structure was underground, perhaps a subterranean path, although the entrance to such a thing might be difficult to locate. Of course, the tower looked decrepit enough that they might just be able to sneak in through a crack in the wall.

As his eyes traveled up the tower, he noted that there seemed to be a great many large birds circling it, and he wondered why that might be. Maybe they were roosting somewhere inside, he thought. If so, that may be a viable entry point, provided Trill was willing to fly them all up.

He studied the birds' movements for a while and saw that some were, indeed, seeking refuge in the top of the tower. As they got closer, though, he began to realize their true scale.

They were enormous. And… misshapen, somehow.

"Merlin?" From the corner of his eye he saw the warlock turn to him. He indicated the birds with a nod. "What are those?"

Merlin followed his gaze, then slowed Trill to a stop with a touch, the other horses following suit. Focused on the birds, he breathed an incantation. His eyes turned a familiar gold, then widened. He blinked the spell away. "We need to get off the road. Now."

Trill plunged into the cover of the trees, the others following in his wake. They didn't stop until the tower, and its circling creatures, was completely out of sight.

When Arthur reined in next to Merlin, he was rubbing his eyes and Branwen looked troubled. "Merlin?" he prompted.

"Harpies."

The stunned silence was broken after a heartbeat by Gwaine. "Well, this just keeps getting better and better. You know, Princess, all the times I called your sister a harpy, I never thought that it might actually be true."

No one argued.

"So now what?" Branwen asked.

Everyone looked expectantly at Merlin, who shook his head. "The most effective way to fight harpies is with magic, but I don't think Branwen and I could take on so many by ourselves."

"As if I'd let you," Gwaine scoffed, and Arthur silently agreed. "So, what? We go back? Load up the battle mages and haul them all out here?"

Arthur dismissed the idea. "No. We haven't got that kind of time. Some allies would certainly be useful, though. Merlin, are there any druid camps in the area?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. Or would trust, this close to Morgana."

The group fell into silence, pondering the dilemma.

' _Master,'_ Trill turned his head to regard Merlin out of one eye, _'I may have a solution, but it will be risky.'_

 _O~O~O~O~O_

"No," Merlin and Arthur said in unison, both standing with their arms crossed, wearing identical stony expressions. Branwen was amazed at how alike they were in that moment.

' _Please, Master.'_

"Absolutely not."

Trill pressed, _'The negotiations will fail unless I take one of you with me as an emissary. The Mistress is the only one of you who will not appear threatening.'_

"Take me. I was a servant for years. I know how to look non-threatening."

"I agree." Merlin shot Arthur a look, unsure which part of the statement he was agreeing with.

' _To other humans, yes. But you will be seen as a threat by the griffins simply because you are male.'_

"And you won't?"

' _Not if the Mistress is with me.'_

"No! I won't risk her getting torn to shreds!"

' _I would die before I let that happen.'_

Merlin scrubbed his hands through his hair in frustration. Trill's logic actually made perfect sense to him. Having the griffins as allies would be an immeasurable help, but the thought of sending Branwen, _his_ Branwen, into the creature's den made his heart seize in terror.

He felt a gentle hand on his arm and he turned, gathering her into his arms. "I don't think I can do this."

"I'll be fine," she reassured him. "If things go… badly, I'll get out of there, one way or another."

"But what if you can't?"

She drew back a little, cupped his face in her hands, and gazed into his eyes with all the earnestness she could muster. "I will come back to you. I promise."

"You can't know that."

"I'm saying it anyway."

"But –"

"Merlin, this is our best chance. The sooner I go, the sooner I can come back."

He was quiet, searching her face as if to memorize it, before closing his eyes and nodding. She kissed him softly, then reluctantly drew away. As she approached Trill, the parandrus, in a swirl of fur and feathers, transformed into his larger winged cat form. Merlin was suddenly struck by the resemblance to Freya's bastet and the reminder of her, and her eventual fate, sent a tendril of dread through him.

Arthur seemed to feel the same. "Are you sure about this?"

"No."

Branwen climbed onto Trill's back, then turned to smile at Merlin.

' _Be safe,'_ he told her. _'Call if you need me, and I'll come. I'll rip time apart if I have to.'_

' _I know,'_ she answered, and, _'I will.'_ She grabbed hold of the scruff of Trill's neck. _'Ready.'_

But she wasn't. She'd done her best to put on a brave face for Merlin, but she had seen her own fear reflected back at her from his eyes. She held on tightly as Trill broke into a run and then launched himself into the air. Her stomach lurched and she swallowed, fighting down a wave of panicky nausea. She concentrated on her breathing, reminding herself that she had an arsenal of defensive spells at her disposal, and that Trill would be with her. She also took comfort in Merlin's words. If she needed him, he would be there.

She fervently hoped she wouldn't need him.


	6. Chapter 6

Trill landed in a meadow that bordered a dense thicket. A faint trail led into the shadows, too narrow for them to walk side by side, so Branwen allowed Trill to take the lead.

The path meandered through the trees, twisting and turning and doubling back on itself until Branwen lost all sense of direction.

Finally, though, the trail ended at a wide swath of grass, hidden from the air by a latticework of branches overhead. A cliff jutted abruptly from the edge of the clearing, nearly vertical, honeycombed with openings, and filled with griffins.

Branwen gaped. She'd never realized that so many of the creatures even existed, and their sheer numbers set her heart hammering.

A few of the griffins, having noticed the intruders, launched themselves into the air, shrieking.

' _Courage, Mistress. Stand strong, but do not make eye contact.'_

' _Right.'_ Branwen dropped her gaze to the ground in front of her and did her best not the flinch as the griffins landed before them, the largest, towering over them, hissing a challenge.

Trill responded with a low growl.

The griffin seemed taken aback at the response. Watching as best she could with her peripheral vision, Branwen saw the creature tilt his head, first one way, then the other. The motion was quick, precise, as in the way of birds, and was followed by a questioning chirp.

' _He will hear our request. Remain as you are, Mistress. You are doing well.'_

Branwen didn't feel as though she were doing much of anything, well or otherwise, but stayed as she was, listening to the sounds of the odd, wild conversation. After a few minutes of chirps, rills, growls, and squeaks, Trill bowed his head and Branwen followed suit, not sure if it was necessary, but figuring the show of deference probably wouldn't hurt. The griffins drew away a little and huddled together, chirping softly amongst themselves.

Branwen turned to Trill. _'What's happening?'_

' _The flock is aware of the harpies. While not particularly pleased about it, they've so far decided to leave them alone, unless there is an act of aggression.'_

' _Okay.'_

' _The alpha also remembers that Emrys was responsible for the death of one of their own.'_

Branwen's heart sank – she'd heard the story. Death had been unavoidable that night, and she could understand the griffins' reluctance to trust. If their roles were reversed, she knew she'd feel the same.

' _So,'_ Trill continued, interrupting her musing, _'he has offered a… trade, of sorts. He will be willing to assist you if you will assist him.'_

Branwen blinked at him, puzzled. _'What does he think I can do for him?'_

' _His mate was wounded during a hunt and she's not faring well. He's asking if you'll heal her.'_

Branwen considered the request briefly before nodding. _'I'll do what I can.'_

Trill breathed out a purr. _'I had assumed you would, Mistress, but I still thought it prudent to consult with you first.'_

' _Of course. Thank you.'_

Trill padded back toward the griffins, Branwen falling into step beside him. The alpha, noticing their approach, came to meet them. He gave another questioning chirp and Trill dipped his head in acquiescence.

The alpha whistled loud enough that Branwen winced, fighting the urge to cover her ears, then he turned and started walking. Trill followed and, after trying to shake the ringing out of her ears, so did Branwen.

They trailed him to one of the ground-level caves. Inside, what could only be the alpha's mate lay, a large gash on her side across the boundary where feathers met fur. Her breathing was shallow, erratic, her eyes half-lidded and dulled with pain.

Branwen didn't think to hesitate, but knelt down, hands hovering over the wound, assessing the damage. The gash, though ragged and surrounded by bruising, was clean and appeared to be uninfected. This was good. There was nothing unusual or unfamiliar about the wound, save for the type of patient was on. She could do this.

She began her incantation, focusing first on closing the gash, matching up the edges as best she could to minimize scarring. Then she moved to ease the worst of the bruising but, as she moved down the griffin's body, smaller sparks of life caught her attention. She probed deeper, discovering five tiny pups. One, a female, seemed to be more lethargic than her siblings and Branwen found that she, too, had sustained some bruising. She gentled her spell and carefully healed the pup, too. She smiled a little as the youngling kicked and turned blindly toward the source of the magic. Branwen gave her an extra touch of comfort before withdrawing and ending the spell.

When she came back to herself, she found Trill watching her. _'She'll be fine with rest,'_ she reported, watching the alpha nuzzle his mate. _'One of the pups was also injured, but I took care of her, too.'_

' _Well done, Mistress. I will inform the alpha.'_

Branwen, grateful for a moment to rest herself, surreptitiously observed the pair as Trill relayed the news. She started when the alpha's head snapped up to look at them before he returned his attention to his mate, chirping softly.

' _What's happening? Why did he do that?'_

Trill's voice was smug. _'It seems he was unaware of the pups.'_

' _Oh.'_ Branwen stared at the ground, wondering if she had, however innocently, overstepped some sort of boundary of propriety and ruined their chances of gaining the griffins' support. She watched with trepidation as the feet of the alpha approached and stopped in front of her. Studying the enormous talons, she'd never felt so small, so vulnerable.

' _He says you may look at him.'_

Branwen swallowed hard, but let her eyes drift up, uncertain of what she would find. To her utter astonishment, the alpha dipped his head to her, eyes lowered in deference. He rose again before Branwen's spinning mind had decided what she should do with herself. The alpha chirped.

' _He says you have earned the trust and support of the flock, both in this generation and in the one to come.'_

Branwen wasn't sure if it was the overwhelming relief, or the heartfelt message, or a combination of the two, but her eyes filled with tears and she dropped her head to hide them. _'Tell him it was my honor to be of service.'_

There followed a conversation between the two that was long enough for Branwen to recover her composure, then the alpha left.

Trill nudged her. _'We need to follow.'_

' _Why? What's going on?'_

' _The alpha is gathering the flock. Apparently there's a… ceremony of sorts to make your status official.'_

' _Oh.'_ She wondered what _kind_ of ceremony as she got to her feet.

Upon exiting, they discovered that the glade was filled with griffins, all facing the alpha. Trill and Branwen went to stand beside and a little behind him.

What followed reminded Branwen so much of Arthur holding court that she almost smiled. Then the alpha turned and chirped at Trill and she felt the parandrus stiffen.

' _What? What is it?'_

' _He wishes to… mark you.'_

The statement gave her pause, but she nodded. _'Whatever it takes.'_

The alpha, apparently understanding her nod, came to stand in front of her and she braced herself, not knowing what to expect.

The strikes, when they came, were so fast that her mind barely registered that anything had happened. Her body, reacting more truly, let a tear slide out of her left eye. The sting made her breath catch. She reached up to cautiously touch her cheek, then stared wordlessly at the three stripes of blood left on her fingers. She tensed as the alpha's head came within inches of her face, inspecting his handiwork. He opened his mouth wide enough, it seemed, to swallow her whole, and his avian tongue flicked out to gently clean the wounds.

' _The pact is sealed.'_ The voice wasn't Trill's. It was higher, full of wildness and nobility.

Branwen stared at the alpha. _'I can understand you.'_

There was amusement in the alpha's eyes. _'And I you, Branwen, Friend of the Flock. As will any griffin you should happen to meet.'_

' _Thank you.'_

' _And my thanks to you. But now you must return to your people and prepare for battle. The flock and I will come to you at first light.'_

Branwen inclined her head and the alpha returned the gesture before she and Trill took their leave. She spent most of the walk back through the trees trying to calm her frayed nerves, but ended up breaking down halfway through, anyway. Trill made himself small and allowed himself to be held and cried on, for which Branwen was both grateful and embarrassed. It helped, though, and her mind was clearer as she pondered the next problem.

How to tell Merlin.


	7. Chapter 7

Branwen spent most of the journey back to camp trying to figure out the best way to tell Merlin what had happened. She decided that giving him some advance warning was definitely the way to go so, when they were minutes from camp, she reached out to him, hoping for the best.

' _Merlin?'_

' _Branwen! Are you on your way back? How did it go? Are you okay?'_

' _I'm fine. Well, mostly, but I did it! The griffins have agreed to help us!'_ She waited eagerly for his congratulations, but there was only a long silence. _'Merlin?'_

' _Explain "mostly".'_

' _What?'_

' _How are you "mostly" fine?'_

Branwen sighed. Of course that would be what he focused on. _'Well, they said it was necessary to seal the pact.'_

' _WHAT was necessary?'_

' _They… well the alpha… um… marked me.'_

' _WHAT?!'_

They were approaching the clearing where the men had set up camp and Branwen could see them on the lookout. _'It's nothing… debilitating,'_ she stalled as Trill circled before backwinging to land softly on the grass.

Branwen's own feet had barely touched the ground before Merlin was there, spinning her around in a panic. His eyes darkened dangerously as they landed on her face, and his fingers came up to hover over the claw marks. "I'll kill them," he whispered.

She jerked back and glared at him. "You'll do no such thing!"

"But –"

"No!" She felt a sense of satisfaction at his obvious surprise. Then she noticed the others standing behind Merlin, Arthur with a deep frown and Gwaine looking just as murderous as Merlin sounded.

She took a deep breath, trying to rein in the emotions that were already raw with nerves. "You sent me to gain the support of the griffins, and that's exactly what I've done." Despite her attempts at control, her voice escalated. "I won't have you ruining it over some misplaced sense of… of… overprotectiveness!"

With that, she stormed off into the trees, leaving all of them frozen in astonished silence.

O~O~O~O~O

The forest was starting to fill with dusky shadows when Merlin finally found Branwen sitting on the bank of a creek. He stood for a while watching her, fascinated by the globe of water she'd suspended in front of her, and the way the tiny yellow fish within it followed the finger she dragged along the surface.

The fish abruptly changed from yellow to a violent shade of purple and the corners of her mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile, followed by an equally subtle wince. Merlin fought down another surge of anger and went to sit beside her.

"Hey," he said softly and she flicked red-rimmed eyes to him briefly before changing the fish back to their natural color and returning them gently home.

"Hey."

"I'm sorry I overreacted. I just hate seeing you hurt."

"I know. It's okay." She paused a moment before adding, "I'm sorry I lost my temper."

"Don't be. It was justified."

She nodded and he waited, knowing she had more to say, and giving her space to say it.

"It's just," she started, then pressed her lips together before letting the rest of her words loose in a flood. "I was so scared. I never realized how _big_ they are and I felt so small, so… powerless. But then the alpha asked for help and I did, I helped him and he agreed to help us and I was so happy and…" her eyes filled with tears as she whispered, "I just wanted you to be proud of me."

He stared at her, wordless, stunned at how badly she had misinterpreted his anger. "Branwen," he breathed. She turned toward him and he wiped away a tear that was making its way toward the marks on her cheek. "Of all the books I've ever read and all the legends I've ever heard, I don't know of a single person who has done what you did today. I could not be prouder of you, or more humbled that you've chosen to spend your life with me."

He nearly toppled as she flung herself into his arms with a sob. He held her and let her cry, rocking her gently, peppering her hair with soft kisses and whispered words until she calmed again. They sat like that for a while, wrapped up in each other and savoring the beauty of the evening.

Merlin reluctantly broke the silence. "We should probably head back."

"Must we? This is nice."

"It is," he admitted, "but we'll probably have company if we're gone too much longer."

"Mm. You're probably right." She heaved a sigh and extricated herself from his hold. "Just let me clean up a little."

She knelt down and splashed water on her face, rubbing the salt from her skin, careful of the scratches. Then she turned back to Merlin and, before he could fully register what she was doing, dried her face on his shirt.

His indignant sputtering wasn't quite a question, but she supplied an answer anyway, grinning. "Because I can."

"But –" his next words were cut off by her finger on his lips. Her eyes swirled with amber light and the wetness removed itself from his shirt.

He shook his head and grabbed her wrist, placing a kiss on her fingertip before asking, "Why didn't you just do that to your face?'

"Because that wouldn't have been as fun."

He put his arm around her shoulders as they started back. "You're impossible."

She slipped her arm around his waist. "I know."

They walked in contented silence for several minutes before he asked, "So how long have you been able to do that?"

"What? Be impossible?"

He chuckled. "I think that's a skill you've always possessed. I meant doing magic without a spell."

"Oh." Her brows quirked as she thought. "A month? Maybe two? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're rubbing off on me."

"Hm. Maybe I am." He set that thought aside to ponder later as they came into the camp.

Arthur and Gwaine looked up at their approach, wearing identical expressions that were equal parts hope and wariness. Even Trill seemed reluctant to approach. "Everything alright?" Arthur asked carefully.

Branwen nodded. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

Arthur waved away her apology. "Emotions were running high. For all of us."

Gwaine gave a stir to something that was bubbling in a pot over the fire. "You hungry?"

"Starved!"

The knight dished up a bowl for each of them, and Branwen concentrated on filling her empty stomach. Trill headbutted his way into her lap and she tried not to spill anything on him while she listened to the men discuss battle strategy.

It was decided rather quickly that no solid plans could be made until the griffins arrived. The conversation turned to speculating on how Morgana could have managed to form an alliance with the harpies, and what she may have promised the creatures. Having nothing but guesses on that front, the discussed the nature of the spell she'd used against Camelot, wondering how she'd managed to cast and maintain it from such a distance.

Even Merlin was unsure of how this may have been accomplished. At a loss, he asked, "Any ideas, love?" When Branwen didn't answer, he looked down to find her fast asleep, empty bowl still in her hands and Trill purring in her lap. Merlin took the bowl and set it aside before helping her settle on her bedroll.

They all took that as a cue to turn in themselves, to get what rest they could before morning came.


	8. Chapter 8

Branwen was awakened in the small hours of the morning by Trill's paw patting her cheek. _'Mistress?'_

She hummed something that vaguely resembled a question.

' _I fear we have trouble.'_

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up. _'What's happening?'_

' _The harpies are on the move.'_

Then she heard them – unintelligible mutterings interspersed with heavy wingbeats, heading in the direction of Camelot.

They were too late.

She felt her blood go cold as she listened helplessly. _'What can we do?'_

' _You must call the griffins.'_

' _What?'_ She recalled the time Merlin had called Kilgarrah for her. His voice, powerful and guttural, dropping ancient words like stones to reverberate through earth and air, and the storm of magic pouring out of him, had left her awed. _'I don't have that kind of power.'_

' _You have all the power you need.'_

She shook her head, her mind scrabbling for purchase, for some inkling of how she could do this.

She started when she felt the hand on her shoulder and turned to find Merlin crouched beside her. _'I heard,'_ he told her. _'You can do this.'_

She looked back and forth between them, their eyes full of faith – faith in her abilities, in her magic, in _her_ , and she nodded. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, doing her best to let the tension drain away. She concentrated on the griffins and was bringing her magic to the fore when something new bubbled up within her. With sudden clarity, she recognized it as the magical connection forged by the pact. Not knowing what else to do, she fed to it her fear, her need, her desperation. It reacted, throwing her head back in a sustained shriek, not of pain, but of summons, as it sent a streak of power straight as an arrow toward the griffins.

Then the magic settled, left her dazed and panting with a concerned warlock hovering over her and two knights of Camelot, not fully awake but standing wild-eyed, weapons drawn, ready to defend the camp.

Gwaine's, "What in the seven hells was _that_?!" was undercut in Branwen's mind by an answering call.

' _We come!'_

She let Merlin help her to her feet. "They're coming." At Arthur and Gwaine's confused looks, she clarified, "The griffins."

Then she spun at Trill's deep snarl. He'd transformed into his larger self and she realized that her cry had alerted more than their allies.

Trill launched himself into to air just as a group of harpies descended on the camp. He barreled into one, teeth and claws bared, and there was an alarming tumble of fur and feathers before the harpy dropped to the ground to be finished off by Arthur.

"Look out!" someone shouted and she spun to find another harpy bearing down on her. Merlin grabbed her arm and dragged her behind him, setting the harpy alight with a word and a flash of eyes. The creature shrieked and slammed into the ground. Gwaine attacked it and swore as his mace bounced off. Branwen spoke a spell that stopped the harpy's heart as Merlin shouted, "Gwaine! Hold up your weapons!"

Gwaine did as he was asked and laughed when both sword and mace gleamed with blue light. "Now _that_ , my friend, is a thing of beauty!" He took a swing at an approaching harpy and whooped as the sword struck true.

After that, the camp was a confusion of shouts and shrieks, spells and steel, claws and talons. The horses, panicked, broke free of their tethers and ran off into the darkness as the air filled with drifting, bloody feathers. Bodies started piling up on the ground until the humans could barely take a step without stumbling over one.

But for all their efforts, it was obvious that they were severely outnumbered and would soon be overwhelmed. Branwen was starting to despair when she heard the cries of the griffins over the din of battle. The creatures hit the harpies like a tidal wave, leaving the exhausted humans with little to do except dodge falling bodies.

' _There are some already heading for Camelot!'_ Branwen told the alpha and watched with relief as a group of griffins peeled off from the main flock and began a pursuit.

The remaining harpies, apparently realizing they were overmatched, scattered. The griffins followed, harrying them away from the camp.

In the resulting quiet, Gwaine hobbled toward Branwen, smiling. "Well, that was fun." She knelt to heal his swollen ankle and he waved his mace gently in front of him, frowning as the blue light began to fade. "Aw, I really liked that."

"I'm sure Merlin can recast the spell if you need it again." She deftly dodged the weapon as she rose. "Anything else I need to look at?"

Gwaine tested his ankle, gingerly at first, then with more force. "Nah. I'm good. Thanks, Mouse."

"Any time."

Her attention was drawn by Merlin's shout of, "Arthur!"

The king was slumped against a tree, holding his arm and bleeding freely from a cut above one eyebrow. Branwen rushed over, arriving just as Merlin did, and began assessing the damage. Merlin hovered, obviously panicked, but trying to stay out of her way. "Arthur? Can you hear me?"

The king grunted as Branwen lifted the shredded fabric of his sleeve away from the deep talon wounds on his arm. Merlin hissed in sympathy and watched worriedly as Branwen began her healing spell. The knot of concern eased, though, as gashes, both on his arm and his head, knit together under his wife's touch.

When she finished, Branwen stood, cast a critical eye over her work, and nodded. "He'll be weak," she warned, "but rest will help with the blood loss." She moved aside to allow Merlin to check his king over and assure himself that Arthur wasn't in any immediate danger.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

The answer was soft, but held a healthy amount of sarcasm. "I'm _fine_ , Merlin. Stop fussing. I swear you're worse than Gwen." But he allowed the warlock and Gwaine to assist as he pushed off from the tree.

Merlin focused on getting Arthur back to the fire, only vaguely noting that Branwen seemed to be looking for something, and didn't pay much attention when she kindled a light and wandered into the trees. He focused on getting the king settled comfortably and the fire burning brightly again. That done, he surveyed the camp. He was trying to figure out the best way to clear away all the bodies when he heard Branwen scream.

O~O~O~O~O

Merlin raced through the trees, a hovering globe lighting his way and a glowing path guiding his feet. How had Branwen gotten so far from camp without him realizing?

He saw her suddenly and skidded to a stop. She was kneeling, hands hovering over a black mass on the ground, her eyes glowing gold and streaming tears.

' _Master. You must stop her."_

' _Trill?'_

In response, the shape of a wing detached itself from the mass and twitched feebly before falling again. Merlin approached, his light bathing the scene in eerie blue.

The mass on the ground was Trill. He was panting heavily, bleeding from numerous deep wounds. Judging by the wetness of the dirt beneath him, he'd been there a while.

' _Please, Master_.'The voice was quiet, desperate. _'I cannot be saved and she will kill herself trying to heal me if you don't intervene.'_

Merlin's gaze returned to his wife, noting how her mouth hung slack, her eyes unseeing behind the furious swirling of gold. He approached her slowly. _'Branwen?'_

There was no response.

He shook her, then turned her toward him, but she stared beyond him, eyes still a storm of gold.

' _You must hurry, Master!'_

"Branwen!" he shouted at her with both voice and mind, but it was as if she was locked within herself, unable to hear or see.

Not knowing what else to do, he took her in his arms and wrapped his magic around her like a cloak, cutting her off from Trill. As if from a great distance, he heard the parandrus give a long, shuddering sigh. In his embrace, Branwen gave a quiet sob. She pulled away, blinking the amber out of her eyes and looked toward Trill's still shape. She shook her head. "No." The word was barely more than a whisper. She reached out a hand toward the body. "Trill?"

Merlin's heart broke at the smallness of her voice, the quaver in it. She drew her hand back as Trill's shape began to dissolve into wispy smoke, then she buried her face in Merlin's shoulder and wept.

He held her tightly, unable to stop his own tears, both for the loss of another loyal friend and for his wife's heartbreak.

They stayed like that until subtle movement drew Merlin's attention to their surroundings. Looking up, he found that Arthur and Gwaine had followed and they, along with a ring of griffins, were standing in respectful silence around the blood-soaked ground where Trill had lain. He nudged Branwen gently, drawing her attention to the impromptu gathering. She regarded them solemnly, eyes travelling slowly around the circle, before straying back to Trill's final resting place. She held out her hand and her bottom lip trembled as her eyes fell closed. When she opened them again, they were swirling with magic once more and a tangle of flowers erupted from the ground. Merlin recognized them: daffodil for chivalry, freesia for friendship, bellflower for gratitude, zinnia for mourning.

The spell sapped the last of her strength, though, and she slumped against Merlin, who lifted her up and silently carried her back to camp, the others, both human and griffin, following like an honor guard.

 _A/N: I'm so, so sorry._


	9. Chapter 9

Branwen was still asleep long after the breakfast things had been cleared away the next morning. Merlin sat by her bedroll, throwing twigs dejectedly into the fire, but looked up when Arthur settled next to him. "I'm sorry," the king told him quietly.

Merlin just nodded, staring into the fire again.

Arthur watched him a moment before asking, "She'll be alright?"

"I think so. I've never seen anyone overextend their magic like that, though. I don't know how long it will take her to recover."

Arthur considered that. "It's too bad you can't give her some of yours."

Merlin's brows quirked in confusion. "Some of my what?"

"Magic."

Merlin stared at him for a long moment before his gaze slid away, eyes losing focus as he thought. When he looked back at the king, he seemed on the verge of smiling. "Arthur, I think you just may be brilliant."

"You're just now figuring that out?" came the retort as he spun to kneel beside Branwen.

Arthur watched with interest as Merlin held his hands over her, fascinated by the glowing gold of his eyes, echoed suddenly in an aura around his hands. Then, the magic coalesced and dripped like honey onto, and into, Branwen.

For a few long moments nothing happened. Arthur shifted, wondering how long he should let Merlin continue, reminded uncomfortably of the previous night.

But then there was a flutter of eyelids, eliciting a murmur of, "That's it. Rise and shine, love," from Merlin.

"Don't wanna," came the soft reply.

"I know." Merlin's tone was gentle, his voice cracking a little. "I know."

Branwen took a deep breath and pried her eyes open. She watched the magic drip from Merlin's hands a moment before bringing her own up to touch his wrist. "You can stop."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I think so."

Merlin drew his hands back slightly, eyes fading back to blue, and helped Branwen sit up. When he was sure she wouldn't fall over, he reached for a bowl keeping warm by the fire. "I saved you some breakfast," he said as he handed it to her.

"Thank you." She stared at the bowl for a heartbeat. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He tilted her chin up with a finger until she met his eyes. "There's nothing to be sorry for." He wiped the tears away and kissed her forehead. "Eat."

The quiet of the camp was interrupted by nearby wingbeats and a thud, and a griffin carrying a windblown Gwaine trotted up to the fire. "Hey, Mouse!" he called. "Feeling better?"

Mouth full, she waved affirmation with her spoon as he clambered down. He gave the griffin a fond scratch before sitting beside the fire. To everyone's surprise, the griffin followed him and curled herself around his back. She nudged his elbow and was rewarded with another scratch.

The knight turned his attention back to Branwen. "I'm sorry about Trill," he said softly. "He was a good…" he hesitated, failing to find the word he wanted. "Well, I'm not sure exactly _what_ he was, but it was good." He nodded. "Definitely good. He'll be missed."

"Thank you." Branwen gave him a watery smile, then watched with bittersweet amusement as the men all politely ignored how each of the others seemed to have suddenly gotten something in their eyes.

After a suitable amount of time in which to regain their collective composure, Arthur asked, "So what did you find out?"

Gwaine leaned back against the griffin. "You mean, other than the fact that I'm never willingly riding a horse again?"

The griffin huffed and lashed her tail, thumping Gwaine gently across the chest. He placated her with a bit of dried meat, but not before Branwen caught a tendril of thought from her.

' _Cheeky.'_

Branwen snorted and Merlin, having caught the thought from his wife, echoed her. Gwaine gave them both an appraising look before continuing. "Not a harpy to be seen, but the flock is still patrolling. There's been no movement from the tower, either, at least that could be seen from the outside."

Arthur nodded. "We have to assume Morgana's still there, until we know for sure otherwise. Unless there's a way to tell from here?" He raised his eyebrows at Merlin, who shrugged.

"I can try, but I can't guarantee she won't notice, if she's there."

"I can help with that," Branwen offered.

At Arthur's confirmation, they linked hands. Merlin closed his eyes as he summoned his magic and he could hear Branwen incanting next to him. As he sent a tendril of magic soaring toward the tower, he could feel her concealment spell weaving around it. Guiding it with his mind's eye, he paused outside a narrow window just under the eaves. The stone on the pedestal nearly blinded him with the brightness of its power, but then a figure drew his attention.

Merlin could make out her hair and the silhouette of her gown, but it was as if she was covered head to foot with a spiderweb of dark magic. He withdrew as another figure joined her.

When he returned to himself, he turned to Branwen. "What was that?"

"You could see it?" When he nodded, she answered, "A curse."

Arthur sat straighter. "The tower is cursed?"

"No." Merlin shook his head, clearly stunned. "Morgana is."

Arthur's eyebrows shot skyward. "What?! Are you sure?"

At Branwen's nod, he asked hesitantly, "Can you lift it?"

She frowned. "I can try. It's complex, and deeply embedded, but I think I can break it, if I can have some time to work out a counter."

"What do you mean by 'deeply embedded'?"

"She's been under the curse for a long time. Several years, at least."

Arthur and Merlin exchanged a look. "Morgause," they said together.

Merlin frowned. "The spell felt… familiar, somehow. I think it may be the same curse she used on Gwen, or at least something similar, but," he cast a concerned eye at his wife, "are you sure you can break it? I mean, when Gwen was cursed, we had to take her to the Cauldron of Arianrhod and I had to summon the Triple Goddess."

Arthur gave him a funny look. "Merlin, you didn't break the curse. The Dolma- " he stopped. His eyes widened. "Wait…"

Merlin's face had paled. "Arthur…"

Arthur stabbed a finger in his direction. "It was you! _You_ were the Dolma!"

Gwaine perked up at that. "Wait. _Merlin_ was the Dolma?"

Arthur nodded. "Merlin was the Dolma."

The king and the knight stared at Merlin, then at each other, and then burst out laughing.

Branwen watched as Merlin went from ghost-white to beet-red, not sure if she should be amused or concerned.

When the laughter had died down, she asked no one in particular, "What's a Dolma?" The question elicited another peal of laughter from Gwaine.

Arthur, wiping tears from his eyes, gaped at her. "You mean Merlin hasn't told you," his voice trembled with mirth, "how _fetching_ he looks in a dress?!"

Her head snapped around to Merlin as more guffaws rang through the camp, but he only groaned and hid his face in his hands.


	10. Chapter 10

It was decided in a roundabout, haphazard way that the elimination of the harpies had bought them enough time to allow Arthur and Branwen to rest for the remainder of the day. Merlin reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced to tell the story of the Dolma. It took the majority of the afternoon, what with Arthur's interruptions and Gwaine's snide remarks. It was a nice distraction, though, helping to lift the gloom that had settled over the camp.

At the end of the story, Merlin sat quietly, playing self-consciously with the hem of his tunic and not looking at Branwen, who had not seen him so unsure of himself in her presence in a long time.

She found it completely endearing.

She touched his knee. "You did all of that for Gwen?"

Merlin wasn't sure what he was expecting. Teasing, perhaps, or anger that he'd kept this from her. Certainly not her quiet awe, her soft smile. "Um… yes?"

She shook her head, prompting a worried, "What?" from him.

"You. Just about the time I think I've got you all figured out, I find out something new that amazes me."

"You're not angry?"

"Why would I be angry?"

"Well, your husband can become a woman. You know, if the occasion calls for it."

Her smile widened. "No, I'm not angry." She added, just to him, _'Although I'll admit it opens up some… intriguing possibilities.'_

His eyes went wide and he blushed as he processed her full implication. He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before, while she smiled serenely back at him. As he continued to stare, though, her smile faltered and she looked away. _'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable.'_

She let out a surprised squeak as Merlin hauled her to him and kissed her soundly. _'I don't know exactly how I feel about the idea, but the fact that you… that you'd be willing to… with me…'_

They pulled away at Gwaine's, "Whoa! Time and place, kids! Time and place!"

Branwen lost herself for a moment in Merlin's eyes. _'I would do anything for you.'_

Her words seemed to trouble him. _'Don't say that.'_

' _Why not? It's true.'_

He shook his head, realizing that she was simply telling him the same thing he'd told Arthur over and over. _'You're impossible,'_ he reminded her.

O~O~O~O~O

The four made their cautious way up the winding tower stairs just past dawn the next morning. The steps seemed interminable.

Arthur paused, needing to go over the plan one more time. "Merlin, you're sure Mordred is with her?"

Merlin nodded. "I can't imagine that the other person I saw could be anyone else."

"Right. Then you and I will distract the two of them while Branwen tries to undo the curse. Gwaine, your job is to guard her."

The knight's answer was more for Merlin than Arthur. "With my life." At the warlock's grateful look, he added, "I don't suppose you could do that bluey-glowy-thingy again?" He held up his weapons in supplication.

"I'm not sure how much good it'll do."

"I don't care. I just like the way it looks."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but spoke the incantation, shaking his head at Gwaine's delighted grin.

As they started climbing again, Branwen touched Gwaine's arm. When he turned to look at her, she whispered, "You help get us all out of here alive, and I'll make sure they never stop glowing."

He gave a quiet laugh. "You have yourself a deal, Mouse."

The stairs ended at a heavy door. Arthur and Merlin stood together on the top step, with Gwaine just behind, and Branwen crouched in the shadows.

At Arthur's nod, Merlin placed his hand on the door and it vanished, the only indication of where it had gone a muffled crash that echoed up the stairway.

Weapons and magic at the ready, they stepped into the room.

Morgana and Mordred were waiting for them, Aithusa curled around her Mistress.

"Hello, Brother."

"Morgana." Arthur's voice was cautious. Behind them, very faintly, Merlin heard Branwen begin her incantation. "I suppose you know why we're here."

She smiled humorlessly. "Yes, Arthur. You're nothing if not predictable. You've wasted your time coming here, though."

Gwaine snorted. "Oh, I don't know. Fighting the harpies was worth the trip for me." He returned her scowl with a wink and she drew back a little, regarding him warily.

Then she blinked, her eyebrows drawing together. She seemed to lose focus and swayed a bit.

"My Lady?" Mordred was at her side, a solicitous hand at her elbow.

Morgana shook her head a little, then turned her attention to Merlin. "Where is she?" Aithusa's hiss echoed her demand.

"Morgana, please. Let us help you. Let us take you home."

"Home?! I will not consider Camelot my home unless I am sitting on her throne. Now, where is your wife?"

But Merlin pressed his lips together, refusing to say any more. He watched her, though. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see the shadow of the curse if he concentrated. The dark threads seemed to be loosening and, as Morgana leaned suddenly into Mordred, he saw one snap.

When she regained her balance, her eyes were wild. "She's here." Looking past Gwaine, she caught a glimpse of Branwen's golden eyes in the shadows. She pointed. "There!"

Mordred strode forward, sword drawn, and Gwaine moved to meet him. Their weapons clashed as the white dragon snaked between their feet.

"AITHUSA!" Merlin thundered, and she stopped, looking at him reluctantly. In the dragon tongue, he told her, "You will not touch her." When the dragon only stared sullenly at the floor, he gentled his tone and explained, "She's my mate."

Aithusa's head snapped up at that, and she gave him a wide-eyed look before she glanced back at Branwen, wide-eyed herself, still incanting on the stairs. Then she ducked her head and slunk back to her place behind Morgana, who growled in fury. She raised her hand toward the stairs and hissed out a spell.

Branwen's voice went shrill in fear, but Merlin, with a spell of his own, caught the chunk of roof before it crushed her, and dropped it at Morgana's feet in warning. The words forming in his mouth died there as nearly all the dark threads snapped and dissolved and Morgana slumped against the debris.

"Morgana!" Mordred started to move toward her, but Gwaine would have none of it, keeping him engaged and away from the sorceress.

Merlin realized he could no longer hear Branwen. He slipped past the battling knights and caught her as she tried to stumble up the steps.

"That's all I can do," she told him, the tremble in her voice echoing the shaking of her body.

"You were brilliant," he assured her and was rewarded with a grateful smile. Then she peered past him, focusing on the pedestal. "The stone," she whispered. "That's what's maintaining the spell on Camelot." Her brow furrowed. "I think I can-"

"No," Merlin interrupted. "I think there's another way." He turned away from her. "Arthur!"

The king, who had been unwilling to interfere in Gwaine's battle with Mordred, and unable to effectively engage with Morgana, turned at Merlin's shout.

"See if you can break the stone with your sword!"

He gave a sharp nod and seemed relieved to finally have something to do. Stepping to the pedestal, he raised his weapon with both hands and brought it down on the stone.

Time seemed to freeze as the blade made contact, the only perceptible movement coming from the cracks spiderwebbing through the stone.

Merlin, feeling the buildup of power, dragged one hand up and began a spell that he hoped would keep them all alive through the aftermath.

ooooo

 _A/N: If I was really mean, the next chapter would read:_

 _It didn't._

 _The end._

 _But I'm not, so it doesn't. :)_


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin struggled toward consciousness, a nagging feeling telling him that something important had just happened. The last thing he remembered was a feeling of falling.

He coughed, feeling it jar through him, and he realized that one arm seemed to be pinned. He coughed again and dragged his eyes open, blinking in the sunlight as he tried to get his bearings.

He flexed his fingers and toes, relieved that nothing seemed to be broken. He ached all over, though, and his hand tingled, on the brink of going numb. He turned his head toward it and caught his breath.

Branwen was sprawled on his arm, eyes closed and face pale. With a groan, Merlin heaved himself over, extricating his arm gently, and checked her for injuries. Finding none, he breathed a sigh and surveyed his surroundings.

The field was littered with enormous chunks of what could only have been the tower, and he remembered the enchanted stone cracking as Arthur's sword struck it.

Rustling caught his attention, and his eyes found Arthur, just beginning to stir. His gaze swept around, finding Gwaine and Mordred lying within a hand's breadth of each other. Morgana wasn't far from them, her head resting against Aithusa's side.

He went to Arthur and helped him sit up. "Are you alright?"

The king rubbed his head and took stock. "Well, I seem to be in one piece, if nothing else. Thanks to you, I assume."

"Probably."

"Probably?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't really remember."

Arthur eyes roamed over his sorcerer, looking for any indication that anything was wrong. Not finding any, he set the comment aside for the moment. "What about the others?"

"All in one piece, too, I think."

They watched as a griffin detached herself from those circling above and landed next to Gwaine, nuzzling at him. The knight groaned and swatted at her halfheartedly, but she only lashed her tail and renewed her efforts until he finally sat up. He gave her a scratch and then, using her as leverage, hauled himself to his feet.

The movement caused Mordred to stir. His eyes flew open and he scrambled back when the griffin hissed at him.

Arthur, satisfied that all was under control on that front, made his way to Morgana. Merlin, after double-checking Branwen, followed.

The king helped his sister sit up. She looked lost. "Arthur?"

"I'm here, My Lady."

She gave him an incredulous look. "How can you still call me that, after all I've done?"

"It wasn't your fault," Merlin told her gently. "Morgause used you, then she died and left you enslaved." He dropped his eyes. "But you might not have gone to her if I hadn't failed you. If I'd been honest with you and helped you."

"It's alright. You did what you thought was best, and then you did what you had to do." She looked over at Branwen, who was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. "She saved me."

Merlin followed her gaze. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "She does that."

"She didn't save you." The all turned at Mordred's growl. "She's taken your will. She's made you weak, like you were before."

"Mordred." Morgana's voice was soft, pleading.

"No! Don't you see? They're taking you away from me, like they took Kara." He fixed his attention on Branwen, who looked back at him blearily.

Gwaine, guessing at his probable intentions, moved toward his weapons, but Mordred's eyes flashed gold and the knight flew back into the griffin hard enough to knock her off her feet. Then Mordred pulled a dagger from his boot and scrambled toward Branwen. Her eyes widened in shock, but her comprehension came too late for her to defend herself.

Mordred's name rang out from several voices at once and then he was suddenly flying high in the air, away from Branwen. There was a shriek as the alpha dove and snatched him in his talons. Wings laboring to gain altitude, he headed toward the den. _'Do not worry,'_ he told Branwen. _'This one will trouble you no more.'_

Branwen, staring open-mouthed after the retreating alpha, started as Merlin dropped to his knees beside her. His hands fluttered, touching her lightly on her face, shoulder, elbow, his terrified eyes scanning her for injuries. "Are you alright? He didn't… didn't…"

"I'm fine," she whispered and he pulled her into his arms. She rubbed his back, trying to soothe his trembling.

She pulled away when she felt another presence beside them, and looked up to find Morgana regarding her, with Arthur and Gwaine just behind her. She tensed, unsure what to expect. "Are you sure you're alright?" The soft question caught her off guard, but she nodded warily, then let out a surprised gasp when Morgana knelt down and wrapped her arms around her tightly, her voice whispering against her shoulder, "You saved me. I don't know how I can ever begin to repay you."

After a stunned heartbeat, Branwen returned the embrace. "I'm glad I could help, My Lady."

Morgana huffed out a humorless chuckle. "I'm hardly that anymore."

"You are if I say you are." They looked up at the imperious sound of Arthur's voice.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "I do believe you've gotten bossier since I've been gone."

"Well, becoming king does tend to have that effect on one."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You've no idea."

Morgana laughed, and both Merlin and Arthur realized just how much they'd missed that sound.

"So, will you come back with us?" Arthur's voice was hopeful.

Morgana stared at him. "Even if I did, would the people accept me?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, but I'll make an official announcement explaining the situation, and Merlin and Branwen can corroborate. You'd have to be on your best behavior, but," he held out his hand to her, "I believe it would be incredible useful to have an official Court Seer." When she hesitated, he added, "You can have your old chambers back."

"Well," she took the offered hand, "how can I say no to that?" She added, eyes twinkling, "I don't suppose I could have my old maidservant back as well?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

She grinned. "Just thought I'd ask." She looked around. "Now, dear brother, how do you propose we get back to Camelot?"

Everyone looked over to Branwen, who was standing more or less steadily next to Merlin. She smiled. "I'm on it."

O~O~O~O~O

They caused quite a stir when the griffins, along with a white dragon, landed in Camelot's courtyard. Rumors started flying immediately as the stunned populace realized that Morgana was among those returning. More rumors were added when Branwen bowed to their mounts, and the terrifying creatures bowed back to her before taking off again. All except one, who seemed very attached to Gwaine.

ooooo

 _A/N: Well, look at that. I seem to have redeemed Morgana. *head tilt* Huh._


	12. Postlude

Arthur drove through the tiny village, taking in all the details he could. Though he didn't recognize anything, the place still felt familiar, felt _right_.

He'd been reborn and the memories of his life as king has started resurfacing when he was eighteen. As the memories became stronger, his restlessness grew until, at twenty-one, he'd gotten in his car and driven in what seemed a promising direction.

And so here he was. He found a likely parking spot, but then just stood by his car, unsure what to do next.

"You look lost." He turned to find a friendly-looking woman.

"I think I am," he admitted, then added, on impulse, "I'm looking for someone, actually."

"Oh, I'm afraid I won't be much help. I'm new here, myself." She nodded to the building across the street. "You should try the pub. The owners seem to know everyone."

He considered the building, noting that a black cat near the door was watching him with interest. He decided that that had to be a good omen. He smiled at the woman. "Thanks."

"My pleasure." She started to walk away, but then turned back. "While you're there, you should really try the mead. I don't know how they make it, but the stuff is downright _magical_."

"I'll certainly give it a try." The woman smiled and continued on her way, leaving Arthur wondering at her odd choice of words.

He approached the building, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the sign above the door. Two birds were carved in on the wood, wings outstretched, beaks meeting in the middle.

"The Falcon and the Raven," the old-English-style words announced.

Arthur understood immediately and shook his head. The idiot always did have a knack for hiding in plain sight.

He went in and looked around. The jingling bell had drawn the attention of a familiar face behind the bar. She smiled at him in a somewhat automatic way as her gaze swept past him. Then her eyes widened and returned to him, her mouth falling open in astonishment. She blinked at him several times before a delighted grin bloomed on her face.

He made his way toward the bar as she turned to the familiar lanky figure deep in animated conversation with another patron.

"Merlin." She tugged on his sleeve. "Merlin!"

"Whaaaat?" he answered in mock exasperation, and she tilted her head at the newcomer.

Merlin turned and froze just as Arthur rested his elbows on the bar. The blonde smirked up at him. "I should've known I'd find you in the tavern."

Merlin blinked and opened his mouth, blinked and closed it again. All color drained from his face. His eyes flickered over Arthur and his trembling fingers came up to hover a hair's breadth from his king, as if afraid that his touch would break whatever spell had brought him back. His voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"Arthur?"

"It's me, Merlin."

At the sound of his name in that old, beloved voice, Merlin snatched his hand back and clamped it over his mouth, eyes filling with tears. Then, so fast that Arthur stepped back in surprise, he vaulted over the bar and into his friend's arms, sobbing.

Arthur heard a strangled sound and realized Branwen was crying, too. He reached over to take her hand, squeezing it gently.

It took a little while for the couple to compose themselves, but eventually Branwen drew away to fish a box of tissues from under the bar and Merlin was finally able to east the death-grip he had on Arthur, if only just slightly.

"You know, if you don't stop soon, you'll be celebrating my return by washing my shirt."

Merlin let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and pulled back to meet Arthur's eyes. He shook his head and shrugged. "Works for me!" He lifted a hand and closed his eyes and Arthur could feel the fabric cleaning and drying itself.

"So, where does all that nasty stuff _go_?"

Merlin giggled, the sound bordering on hysterical. "I have no idea!"

Arthur threw his head back and laughed.

It was only then that they realized the pub had gone completely silent, some of the guests watching them avidly, and some studiously looking elsewhere but doubtlessly paying attention. Merlin addressed the room at large.

"Everyone, this is my friend Arthur and he's been gone for a very, _very_ long time. But now he's back and I feel like celebrating. Next round is on the house!"

Amid the resulting cheers, Merlin pulled him back into another hug, and Arthur knew he was home.

ooooo

 _A/N: After rereading this, I decided that I really didn't do Merlin's reaction justice. So I tweaked it a little._

 _Also, it looks like "The Falcon and the Raven" has decided to be a trilogy. Stay tuned. :)_


End file.
